


I'm Thinking of You Now

by quietwandering



Category: Electronic (UK Band), Pet Shop Boys
Genre: M/M, time for Johnny to be a big sad now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24803878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering
Summary: Do you ever think of me?
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Neil Tennant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	I'm Thinking of You Now

**Author's Note:**

> I found the process of Neil writing 'Getting Away With It' from Mozzer's perspective really interesting. I know some say he was making fun, but I just don't feel the irony vibes in 'I love you more than love me.' 
> 
> Title is [Between Two Islands](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEOiz3pS8Rw) by the Pet Shop Boys and Johnny Marr 
> 
> Lyrics referenced are [Getting Away With It](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9zU6WkBpIM) by Electronic (you think I'm linking the video but jokes on you, it's just Johnny's orgasmic solo rendition)

_Stop thinking about him. Just stop thinking about him. It’s so easy to just not think about him._

I stared down into my glass of whiskey for a long while as those same thoughts looped endlessly in my mind. I had long since forgotten about the keyboard in my lap, or the tune I had been trying to write, and the room was only filled with the soft sounds of Neil's pen on the paper.

“Johnny? Are you okay?” 

Guiltily, I rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand and nodded. “Sorry, yeah. Great. How’s...how’re the lyrics coming along do you think?” Neil shrugged uncertainly at me from across the small space between us on the studio floor and passed the journal over to me. I recognized the first few stanzas, but there were a few more lines jotted down at the end. _‘I thought I gave up falling in love a long, long time ago. I guess I like_ ~~_you_ ~~ _it but I can't tell you, you shouldn't really know.’_

“You really are quite the muse for me,” Neil said with a comforting tone, affectionately rubbing my shoulder. “It’s funny. I’ve not really said that to many people, other than Chris.” 

"Are you and him...?" Neil looked around the room nervously, and I decided to instead focus on the synthesizer in my lap, tapping on the keys I’d used to write the chorus earlier, skimming through the rest of the lyrics. _I love you more than you love me_. Those words seemed incredibly familiar, hauntingly so, but I refrained from saying anything about it. “This is really good so far,” I offered instead, squeezing my eyes shut in frustration at how mismatched my tone was to the sentiment. "Sorry, that didn't sound right."

“It's okay.” Neil scooted closer and bumped our knees together. I belatedly realized his hand was still on my shoulder. “Do you...I’m sorry. This might be too personal, but...Do you want to talk about it?” 

An emphatic ‘ _No’_ was my immediate response, and Neil’s hand dropped away just as fast. My throat felt tight again, too dry. I reached for the bottle of whiskey nearby to refill my glass. I always had more liquor in reach. I couldn’t get through the day sober. “‘M just not sure what else there is to say. I’ve...I've said so much already, or maybe not enough. I don’t know.” 

Neil pushed the piano out of my lap and pressed us even closer together. His arm wrapped comfortingly around my shoulders, and I found myself immensely appreciative of the gesture, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. I had been so afraid to let Bernard near me in this way. I was so terrified I'd fuck everything up again. “I can’t imagine, Johnny. If I lost someone like Chris…” Neil’s voice tapered off, and I held on to him the slightest bit tighter. “I know this won’t mean much, but...it has to get better, right?” 

“How...How’m I supposed to hold it all together? Him and Angie and the band and the studio and the _stupid_ bloody royalty checks.” The alcohol all caught up to me at once. My mouth just couldn’t stop all of a sudden. “How’s...how’s he able to call me in the middle of the night telling me he’s taken all the pills in the house, and then hang up like I _wouldn’t care_? I bloody _do_ care, but I can’t...I can’t just --” 

My words were cut off as Neil’s lips brushed my own, almost chastely, but he pulled back far too soon for my liking, hiding his face into my shoulder almost shyly. I could feel his breath against my neck, shallow and warm, tendrils of arousal whipping through me with lightning speed. “You’re absolutely incredible, Johnny. Beyond compare. When Mark told me what happened I couldn’t phone you fast enough.” 

I wasn't sure what to say and decided to press our lips back together instead, a little rougher this time. Neil tensed but soon began to follow the motions of the kiss, fingers skimming through the loose strands of my hair. I’d hardly bothered to wash it this past week. I had become dead set on shaving it all off at some point in the near future. I didn’t want to look in the mirror and see the ghost of _Johnny Marr, The Guitarist_ standing there anymore, glaring at me in disappointment.

I’d not been held so carefully, so gently, in so long. Angie had tried, she had always tried, but my own guilt stood in the way. I had promised her that our love would always be my first priority, no matter who we might get involved with along the way. I married her just to prove that, but, deep down, I knew I'd broken that vow to her. The hurt didn’t show in her eyes, didn’t reflect in her voice, or in the brush of our hands, but I knew it was there, somewhere under the surface. 

So I certainly didn’t feel I deserved to be treated with such reverence, such devotion, but Neil’s touch was as intoxicating to me as the whiskey. I was dizzy with need, hungry to be the center of someone’s attention for once instead of the other way around. Every push of our hips, every stuttered moan that slipped from Neil’s throat, made me all the more reckless with desire. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Neil. I’m not --” 

“Don’t be,” Neil said before I could even decide what I was actually sorry about. His hands slid down my back, uncertain but determined, and I smiled drunkenly when I felt his hands on my arse, yanking us closer together with his new found leverage. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for Johnny. You did the best you could.” 

The knot in my throat swelled three sizes, and I blinked back another deluge of tears. I was so tired of crying. “I just wanna forget it all for a while.” My voice sounded so calm despite the discord ringing around inside my head. "Just wanna...not think for a while. About any of it." 

I could tell Neil didn’t have much experience, but his fervent enthusiasm was so charming to me. His tongue slid along the inside of my cheek and the back of my mouth until I twisted my own between his lips as a means of demonstration, flicking suggestively along his palette. 

Rolling us down onto the carpet, I allowed Neil the chance to figure out how our bodies should move together, his curious hands pushing under my shirt to feel along the dip of my stomach. “I should probably tell you that I’ve not done this too often. I can't imagine this'll last too long for me.” 

“‘M too drunk to fuck anyways,” I said, appreciative of Neil's honesty, but the uncertainty that passed over his expression made me realize that my phrasing wasn't the best considering the situation. “But I know I want you. I want _this_.”

The truth was closer to me wanting to be wanted, but that was too difficult for me to say. I was never the frontman, never the one able to express myself so easily, no matter what some people thought. _But not for me, of course, of course. I keep mine hidden_. 

Shaking myself back into the present, I reached to push our jeans down and pulled Neil’s hips close to my own, feeling him shiver when we made contact. “Wow...I really didn’t think it’d be this nice,” Neil whispered with a sweetly perplexed expression, scratching lightly across my chest. “This is amazing.” 

“Just you wait.” I placed my feet on the floor and forcefully rocked myself up, keeping a tight grip on Neil’s arse. There was a small amount of discomfort from the lack of any lubrication, but the friction was still good enough to make my toes curl. I had to imagine Neil felt much the same way with the noises he was making - all these soft, urgent little moans and pants that made my cock twitch. “Move with me, just like I do, yeah?” 

Neil seemed to get the idea after a little while and was soon grinding down against me with some sense of rhythm, quiet huffs of breath spilling out in concentration. Neither of us were going to do well in the endurance department, and my cock was struggling to stay up from all the whiskey, but I let myself just enjoy the moment for once, let myself sink into the bliss and the pleasure of these primal urges. 

“Oh,” Neil said startled, fingers curled tight in my jacket. “ _Oh_.” 

There was a sudden spray of warmth against my stomach, and I realized, even with how good it all felt, that I’d not be able to come myself. Thankfully Neil seemed to not notice, or was polite enough not to say anything about it.

We got our jeans up without too much difficulty and laid together for a while, basking in each other's warmth. I pressed a soft, appreciative kiss against Neil’s temple, grateful beyond the telling, and rubbed slow, meaningful circles along his back. "Thank you," I said, hoping I was able to convey just how much I meant it.

“Of course,” Neil said and briefly pressed our lips back together, gentle as ever. His eyes shone with an almost painful honesty as he pulled away. “You’re incredible, Johnny. More than I could ever describe. And I promise this song is gonna prove that.” 

Neil's sincerity made a pulse of excitement run through me that I'd not felt in months, trampling over the uncertainly still lingering in the back of my mind. “Oh yeah? Well let’s get to work on it then.”


End file.
